


Have fun being dead, no one will miss you

by StopitGerald



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Overthinking, Referenced Mental Illness, Suicide, a very personal vent fic, basically togami thinks everyone hates him but hes actually just a bad person, childhood trauma reference, purposeful distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:39:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: Togami kills himself





	Have fun being dead, no one will miss you

**Author's Note:**

> this is a shitty vent fic  
> (the no-formatting is on purpose fyi)

Poison tastes just like the name would suggest. It burns the tongue and coats the throat. It feels like acid, tearing through the soft tissues of the esophagus. He coughs and splutters, doubling over as white hot pain blossoms in his gut. Everything hurts, and it feels so good. He stumbles backwards and knocks something over in his wake, it clatters loudly, but it doesn’t matter if someone hears. He’s already had enough of the vile substance to die. He takes another drink regardless, his shaking, pale fingers gripping the cool glass too tightly. It almost tastes like death, but all he wants is death. The cold grip to embrace him and drag him under the water until he drowns. All his life he’s been taught that he’s better than death, that nothing and no one can touch him. He’s always been above it all, untouchable and godlike. But no more. He’s had enough of it. He’s watched, day by day, as the others grew closer, forming a tightly knit circle that he was cast away from. He’d wanted that, at first, to get as far from them as possible, the damned fools, but as time went on he’d realized; He didn’t much care for being alone. Not even wide-eyed, pure-heart Makoto had made an attempt to pull him back in, to show him he was a part of the group as much as anyone. He’s lived his whole life ALONE. Now, here, he’s going to lower himself to their level, below it, even, and accept death. His stomach writhes and convulses and he groans in agony, his knees shaking as he drops to the floor. His pale cheek presses to the cool tile floor of the lab, and he fights off weak tears that pull in his eyes. He can’t hear the door swing open, its opener alerted by the crash from earlier, but he can see, faintly, in his slowly lessening vision, hazel eyes. Yes, those hazel eyes stare down at his form, and he thinks he can see hatred brewing in them. Though that view is skewed by suffering both physical and mental, both real and fake, those eyes are brimming with tears, small hands wrap around shaking shoulders as he’s shaken and called to. He’s too far gone to recognize that the hazel eyes are, in all god given reality, afraid for him. they want him to keep living. All he can feel is loneliness, the boy’s grip is far away. He’s no longer attached to his body, he’s free falling through the cracks. And the boy calls for help, cradling the dying’s head in his arms. There’s nothing else to be done. The shattered bottle lying on the floor next to them, nearly empty, testifies to that. Byakuya Togami is dead, and hazel eyes weep for him.


End file.
